


Blossoming Feelings

by hawkeyescoffee



Series: Jonsa Week 2019 by Aleks [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Awkward Crush, F/M, First Crush, Jon Snow Knows Nothing, Jonsa Week 2019, POV Sansa Stark, Pre-Canon, R Plus L Equals J, Starklings (ASoIaF), Young Jon Snow, Young Sansa Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-07 08:21:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21454945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkeyescoffee/pseuds/hawkeyescoffee
Summary: Sansa studied Jon silently as he fell to his knees, particularly trying not to touch the blanket and smiling to Bran in front of him. It was a fond smile that stretched over his face and made his grey eyes sparkle in the sun. It was a smile that made Jon’s usually hard and sullen features soft and nice and handsome? Pretty even.Sansa pressed her lips harder together until they were just a bloodless line as she was biting the inside of her cheek. Did she just really think that?[Jonsa Week Day One: (Past) - Present - Future]
Relationships: Jeyne Poole & Sansa Stark, Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: Jonsa Week 2019 by Aleks [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1546636
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	Blossoming Feelings

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys,
> 
> this is my first Jonsa Fic to post and my first entry for Jonsa Week.   
I don't have much to say except I like to spin the notion that Jon had a crush at Sansa first and well reversed it.
> 
> xox, Aleks

The first time Sansa noticed Jon, _really_ noticed him, was when she sat with Arya and Jeyne in the yard on a hot summer day. (as hot as the summer was in the North anyway) The girls were sitting on a thick blanket, littered with plushy cushions, needles in hands.

While Jeyne looked with a face tense with concentration down on the light cloth in her hands, a small huff falling from her lips every time she placed the needle to take a new stich. Arya groaned loudly and unlady-like. Sansa was sure her little sister was very close to throwing the fabric away and storming off to the boys training their swords play. Sansa was also sure that the only reason Arya was sitting outside with them was because of their mother who was sitting on a low stool above them, reading a book to her youngest son, and lowly talking to Maester Luwin, when the babe was distracted.

She looked radiant in the sun light, her Lady mother, Sansa thought. She put a hand through her own copper hair and wished to the seven faces of the gods, that she would be just as beautiful when she was coming of age. It was the stunning noble maiden that married the brave knight after all.

Humming delighted she did focus her attention back on the blue cloth she held. It depicted a grey wolfs head with yellow eyes, that was surrounded by blooming winter roses. She practically finished but her eager fingers were still trying to clean out details to make it as good as possible. Only when she gave it her best, she could improve her skill.

Sansa was distracted though, because little boots entered her field of vision. Bran looked over to her, blue eyes full of unshed tears. She put her work down immediately, even though she was annoyed that she was interrupted. But since mother had a toddler to look after, Sansa took it to herself to look a bit after her little siblings. She was the eldest daughter after all.

So, she opened her arms to let her little brother embrace her properly and tightly. He looked already happier when she wiped a mope of auburn hair out of his face. “What happened?”, she asked him. Bran sighed. A big frown took over his round face when he flopped onto their blanket between his sisters. Arya took the opportunity to fling away her embroidering gear immediately and Sansa had to suppress the urge to roll her eyes at the predictability of her little sister.

“Theon said I am too young to train with them! That he didn’t care that I want to become a knight.”, a deep inhale later, Bran continued as angry as before “He just laughed at me and told me I should go over here do needle work with you! But I’m _not_ a girl…”

Sansa scrunched up her face in silent anger as she looked over where the Greyjoy boy joked with her brother. Truth be told Robb has always been her favorite sibling. And sometimes she caught herself thinking back to the handful of memories she had of just the two of them. She felt very bad every time afterwards, because she loved all her siblings, even baby Rickon. And it was not very nice of her to wish that it was just her and her older brother. But right now, she was incredibly disappointed in Robb for sidetracking Bran just to impress his older friend. Just as she wanted to reassure the young boy that he had more than enough time to become a great knight, she was startled a second time.

“Bran, are you okay?”, the voice was low and concerning sounding but it made Sansa press her lips into a thin line. _Jon Snow_, her father’s bastard, was standing next to the girls awkwardly. His dark hair was wet with sweat and his cheeks flushed. There was a wooden sword in one of his hands. The young boy nodded.

But instead of this being it and Jon leaving again, Bran opened his mouth again: “Jon, do you think I can become a great knight?”

Sansa studied Jon silently as he fell to his knees, particularly trying not to touch the blanket and smiling to Bran in front of him. It was a fond smile that stretched over his face and made his grey eyes sparkle in the sun. It was a smile that made Jon’s usually hard and sullen features soft and nice and _handsome_? Pretty even.

Sansa pressed her lips harder together until they were just a bloodless line as she was biting the inside of her cheek. Did she just really think that?

“Bran, you are still young.”, he began, his smile echoing in his voice. Sansa looked down as not to stare. There was an unfamiliar twist in her guts, that she could not name nor explain. “But you have talent. You are already better than Robb was when he was your age.”

The boy’s blue eyes shone: “Really, Jon? You _mean_ it?” The bastard chuckled a low and pleasant sound and put his hand in his brother’s auburn locks. “Of course, mate. I would not lie to you.” “You wouldn’t.”, Bran agreed. He jumped up after that, energetic and happy once again. “Jon, would you like to spar with me?”

Jon’s pretty smile stretched over his lips again, making his grey eyes shine and his face handsome. “Naturally, my little Lord.”, he said with laughter in every word. Bran laughed too and took his hand. Jon than fixed the girls with an implied bow. “I hope I have not disturbed you, Lady Sansa.” Her hands tightened around the little wolf in her hand. “No, you have not, half-brother.”, she tried to sound normal, but the sentence left her mouth cold and the word half-brother left a sour taste on her tongue.

But Jon paid her frosty answer no mind, told Arya that he would see her later and apologized to Jeyne too.

The weird feeling in the pit of her stomach didn’t leave her for the rest of their afternoon in the sun. It would grow worse every time she would hear Jon’s voice over the yard as he played with Bran. And she caught herself staring at him more than once, watching how his dark locks caught the sunlight, how seemingly effortlessly he would keep Theon on his toes.

The last time she teared her eyes away from him she felt a stare prickling on her skin. She looked up to find her mother’s face twisted in disapproval. The girl felt heat rising up her neck, hot and incriminating. She used a weak excuse and all but rushed inside the keep, feeling as if everybody was staring at her.

Was Jon looking too?

Sansa could not really sleep that night, or any of the following nights. She was kept awake by the memory of Jon that afternoon and the weird feeling that swirled through her body every time she thought about his sunlit face.

She also avoided him more than she already did. (Well, usually she was not avoiding him per se. She just didn’t treat him like her other,_ real_ siblings, but she was mostly polite.)

(The truth was she saw how her mother disapproved of him and Sansa wanted to make her mother proud)

“Sansa!”, Jeyne came walking over to her at the spot where she was sitting by the fire in her and Arya’s sitting room. Sansa was still working on the pale blue handkerchief with the wolf and the flowers because she was still not satisfied with it. And it was getting on her already strained nerves.

“What is it?”, Sansa bit her lip. She sounded way sharper than she intended too but the restless nights left her drained and on edge. Jeyne didn’t seem to notice or to mind. She just took her friends hands in hers, excitement painting her checks pink. “The Manderlys are holding a feast for Wynafred’s birthday! We have to go!”

Hopping up swirled in her pretty grey dress she was wearing. “If your Lord Father allows you to go mine will too, surely. Imagine it, sweet Sansa! Us dancing all night with pretty knights and Lords.” Sansa sighted. She didn’t want to ruin her dearest friend’s fun but she knew that there was no way in seven hells that her father would let her go to White Harbor for a feast alone and if she was honest: She was so gravely tired and confused she almost didn’t want to go.

“We can try asking my Mother first. Maybe she will say yes and can convince my father.”, she suggested because it did sound fun and romantic.

Jeyne hugged her. “Oh, Sansa it will be magical”, her pretty eyes were glittering with anticipation. Then she gasped and held on to Sansa’s white and silver dress. “Maybe one of us will fall in love.”

“Maybe so. Maybe it will be exceptional.”, Sansa smiled down at her friend. She wanted to have fun with her. (Maybe it would take her mind off of Jon.)

“Do you fancy anyone, Sansa?”, Jeyne’s words cut to her full mind’s busy thoughts. “Do I-?”, she stuttered out. Jon smiling in her direction, radiant and beautiful, _no_, it was for Bran. She should stop-

“No, I- There are not many men our age here, except my brother.”, A little pause, “_Brothers_. And well, Theon, but even if he’s handsome, I got to know what a mean spirit he can be.” Sansa was satisfied with her answer. It was also a sufficient way of calling Theon an _asshole_ without putting such a filthy word on her lips.

“Well, I mean Robb is handsome and gallant…”, Sansa rolled her eyes as her best friend ranted about her crush on her older brother. “And he is to be the Lord of a great House. But you are right, Theon can be awful. Oh well, I say that as if we don’t pick on Arya constantly-“Suddenly angry Sansa exclaimed: “I am her _sister_. I _can_ pick on her. Theon is not a real part of this family and has no right to be so mean to Bran and Robb and-“and_ Jon_. She shut her mouth tight before it could slip out.

Jeyne laughed. “You are probably right. Jon is also very handsome and gallant, if you are into the quiet brooding type. There is something about him, don’t you think?” Sansa’s heart skipped a beat as she heard her half-brother's name. Heat rushed to her ears and she hoped that it couldn’t be seen under her hair. Did she think Jon attractive? Would she like an honest answer to that? “To be fair, I can’t really comment on that, since we share a father. It would be strange for me to see him that way.”

Already bored with their conversation Jeyne got up. “That is understandable. My apologies. Do you want to ask your Lady Mother now? I’m eager to go to the feast.” Sansa agreed, eager to change the subject. So, she took her friends hand in hers and on their way, they were to find Lady Catelyn.

As she was stumping back to her room, seething with the embarrassment of her parent’s denial in front of Jeyne, she didn’t look where she was going, as she was bumping into someone.

“I am so sorry I- Jon?”, she started to apologize but as she saw her father’s bastard standing before her, with an innocent look in his grey eyes, she only felt the anger burning under her skin. It was Jon’s fault that she didn’t sleep and that she felt paranoid in her own home and now the feast- It was all-

“Lady Sansa, I didn’t see you-“ She didn’t wait for him to continue and shoved past him: “Get out of my way, _bastard_!” Suddenly a hand wrapped itself around her wrist, holding on tight. “Sansa, why-?” Then she finally looked at his face and she expected to see anger, but his eyes were just sad. She never called him a bastard before she realized.

She wanted nothing more in this moment than to tell him she was sorry. Wanted to reach out and assure him that he was her brother and she loved-

There was blood dropping onto the stone floor that she saw just now, stopping her weird train of thoughts. “Jon, are you alright?”, she reached for his other arm, pulling him close in the process. His skin was warm and soft under her fingertips. There on his left arm was a shallow cut. “You’re bleeding.”, she whispered. “It is nothing, my Lady.”, he mumbled, clearly uneasy by the attention, but Sansa wouldn’t let go of him just yet. “Here.”, she grabbed at the first thing she found in her pocket. It was the pale blue handkerchief with the grey wolf and the winter roses. Well, she was not satisfied with her work here anyway.

She passed it to him and pressed the hand that used to be on her wrist on the wound. “Sansa, this is way too pretty to be used for something like this…” Protesting he tried to gently get it off but Sansa was stubborn. “Nonsense.”, she said, “You should keep it.”

He paused and looked at her.

And then he smiled: “Thank you, Sansa.”

Sansa who just got hyper aware of their closeness and her rapidly beating heart, panicked. Because the way he looked at her did something to her, she could not name it, was _afraid _to name it. She dropped his arm as if it was burning her. “You are welcome.”, she shot out. “I should be going.” After that she just took off.

Sansa didn’t have much time to dwell on Jon after that, as it was only a few days before the king and his dashing son would arrive in Winterfell.


End file.
